“I know not,” said Ali Partab, perfectly ready to admit anything that was not true.

“It is true, then, that Howrah has designs on the missionary’s daughter?  Alwa is to keep her prisoner until the great blow is struck, and Howrah dare take possession of her?”

“That is not my business,” answered Ali Partab, with the air of a man who knew all of the secret details but would not admit it.  Jaimihr began to think that he had lit at random on the answer to the riddle.

“Where is Mahommed Gunga?”

“I know not.”

“At Alwa’s place?”

“Am I God that I should know where any man is whom I cannot see?”

“Oh!  So he is at Alwa’s, eh?” That overdose of opium had rendered Jaimihr’s brain very dull indeed; he considered himself clever, and overlooked the fact that Ali Partab would be almost surely lying to him.  In India men never tell the truth to chance-met strangers or to their enemies; the truth is a valuable thing, to be shared cautiously among friends.

“If Mahommed Gunga is at Alwa’s,” reasoned Jaimihr, “then he is much too close at hand to take any chances with.  I must keep this man close confined.”  He raised his voice in a high-pitched command, and the guards opened the door instantly; at a sign from the Prince they seized Ali Partab by the wrists.

“I will send a message to Mahommed Gunga for thee,” said Jaimihr.  “On his answer will depend your release or otherwise.”  He nodded.  The guards took their prisoner out between them—­led him past the wrinkled old woman in the courtyard—­and halted him in a far corner, where an evil-smelling cage of a place stood open to receive him.  A moment later, in order to make sure, the master of the horse sent for the old woman and made her sweep out the cell a little; then he drove her away with a fierce injunction not to let herself be caught anywhere near the cell again unless ordered.  Following the line of eastern reasoning, had he not given that order he would not have known what her object could be should she make her way toward the cell; but now, if she risked his wrath by disobeying, he would know beyond the least shadow of a doubt that she had a message to deliver to the prisoner—­ the man who was hidden in the dark corner need entertain no hope of keeping the secret to himself for purposes of sale or blackmail!

They trust each other wonderfully—­with an almost childlike confidence—­in a household such as Jaimihr’s!

CHAPTER XV

Ho!  I am king!  All lesser fry
Must cringe, and crawl, and cry to me,
And none have any rights but I,—­
Except the right to lie to me.

Jaimihr was not the only man who would have dearly liked to know of the whereabouts of Mahommed Gunga.  It had been reported to Maharajah Howrah, by his spies, that the redoubtable ex-Risaldar of horse had visited his relatives in Howrah City, and, though he had not been able to ascertain a word of what had passed, he was none the less anxious.